


What do I deserve?

by kakkakerssi



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Assault, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkakerssi/pseuds/kakkakerssi
Summary: In the aftermath of a serious assault, Lando makes a phone call that could save his life.
Relationships: Lando Norris & Carlos Sainz Jr, Lando Norris/Max Verstappen
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	What do I deserve?

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd be on the safe side and over-tag this rather than under-tag it. This is an uncomfortable subject matter. A lot of the violence is implied rather than explicitly described, but this is not a fun, fluffy piece.

The carpeted floor felt hard underneath Lando's body. He was lying on the floor in his living room, lit only by the faint glow of the screensaver on his racing sim. Gasping for breath, he screwed his eyes shut. Maybe if he passed out again, the pain would stop. But maybe if he passed out again, he wouldn't wake up. No, he had to stay awake. That's what the advice always said, didn't it? If you have a head injury, you mustn't sleep. _Stay awake, Lando._

Lando cried out as he rolled onto his side, his broken ribs twisting apart and forcing him back onto his back. He balled his hands into fists, trying his best to breathe through the pain but it was hard because it still felt like Max's hands were around his throat. Lando closed his eyes and scanned his body from head to toe, trying to find any part of it that wasn't hurting and could potentially get him help. If he could somehow crawl to the bedroom where his phone was still on charge from earlier, maybe he could call an ambulance. Not that they'd be able to get through the front door that he'd heard Max lock on his way out. 

A fresh wave of pain seared through Lando and he cried out again, his voice weaker than before. He was bleeding and felt both freezing cold and on fire at the same time. This was all his fault. If he'd only done like Max had asked, if he hadn't insisted on arguing back the whole time, Max wouldn't have snapped. Lando shouldn't have provoked him. Coughing, he tasted blood. He was bleeding on the inside as well as the outside.

Maybe Max was right - maybe death was what Lando deserved. Maybe death was the only sensible option when Lando was such an utter waste of life. But on the other hand, maybe Max was wrong. As Lando drifted in and out of consciousness, he thought of Carlos's words after their debrief in the factory that morning - "You're my best friend, Lando. I hope we'll be team-mates for a long time." They wouldn't be team-mates at all if Lando died.

Lando thought of what else Carlos would say if he found out what had happened to Lando. He'd say things like "of course it's possible for your boyfriend to rape you. The moment you said 'stop' and he didn't, it became rape" and "it's not your fault" and "if he really loved you he wouldn't hurt you" and other sensible things like "we've got to take you to the hospital."

Lando gave one last attempt at launching himself up on the floor and he managed to make it up to his hands and knees, retching in pain. The room was spinning but this time he was determined to stay conscious. He knew that Carlos would be right; he knew that today was not the day he was supposed to die. Lando forced his eyes opened and noticed a new glow of light - his apple watch.

"Hey Siri."

No answer. Lando's voice was too hoarse and garbled from his broken cheekbone. His mouth was full of blood which he choked out, spraying the carpet beneath him in brown-red.

Lando was reminded of something Carlos had told him in the gym, when he'd been sprawled out on the floor on his back, gasping for breath, sure that he would soon die. 'This is where you get better,' Carlos had said. 'When you think it's all done and you can't give anything else, this is where you improve. This is where you find out you are strong.' _Be strong, Lando._

"Hey Siri!" Lando's voice was clearer this time. He had to find Carlos. He had to make sure that the story that would be told about his death would be his story, not the one Max would make up.

Lando's watch lit up again, waiting for instruction. 

"Phone Carlos!" Lando's words drained the last of his strength and he sank down to the floor, face half pressed into the carpet. The pain was white hot but Lando felt too weak to move. _Please phone Carlos._

"Calling Carlos Sainz - Mobile."

Lando heard the ringing tone through his watch and after a few seconds, it stopped. "Hey, Lando, how are you my friend?" Carlos's tone was warm; it was everything Lando needed to hear.

"Carlos, help me." Lando had to ration his words. The dark waves of unconsciousness were lapping at him again, ready to pull him under and drown him. 

"Lando, what's going on? Where are you?" The warmth was gone, replaced with fear. "Did Max hurt you?"

"Yes."

"Oh Christ, Lando, tell me where you are," Carlos pleaded. "Are you at home? Are you at a hotel? Where are you?"

"Home. _Please_." Lando licked his lips, tasting the blood that had trickled down from the open wounds on his face. He couldn't see the glow of his computer screen anymore; he couldn't see anything at all. 

"I'm coming for you, Lando. My hotel is ten minutes away. I'm putting my shoes on now. You just stay on the phone with me, okay? _Promise_ me, Lando. I'm coming for you, my friend. You don't have to worry, okay? I'm coming for you right now. I'll be there really soon. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

"Carlos..." Lando choked out as his mouth filled with more blood and he faded into unconsciousness again, his breathing slowing as his muscles used the last of their energy stores to keep his basic life functions going as long as they could.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes we write things that make us feel uncomfortable, and sometimes we like to read things that make us feel uncomfortable. I'll leave the ending up to you and your imagination. Maybe Carlos gets there in time; maybe he doesn't. Maybe everything will be find in the end; maybe Max is sitting in the kitchen. I have my own ideas, but I'd love to hear about how you think this ends.
> 
> (and if you feel like it's harsh making Max the bad guy, don't worry, I'll write another piece soon where he definitely isn't the bad guy. Maybe it'll balance out.)


End file.
